The bombs are still exploding
In the hearts of some
In this city full of rain.
Old women sell their flowers
In the underground
But no one has the time today.
And these crumbling walls
Tell a million variations
Of the subtlest tones of gray.

But when the wintertime
Exits stage
And the Springtime comes
In a slow parade.
I don’t know
Where they all come from
But their hearts transform
Underneath the sun.

It’s just so beautiful,
To be right here.
Like some strange musical,
Where everybody sings,
In their dreams,
Everybody sings,
In their dreams.

Conversations trickle
Down the café’ walls
Into a reservoir
Of words.
The rattling of dice
Comes from
A group of Greeks
Gathered ‘round
The backgammon board.
And the eyes of the boys
Follow cotton-skirted women
Taking shelter
From the Springtime rain.

But when the wintertime
Exits stage
And the Springtime comes
In a slow parade.
I don’t know
Where they all come from
But their hearts transform
Underneath the sun.

It’s just so beautiful,
To be right here.
Like some strange musical,
Where everybody sings,
In their dreams,
Everybody sings,
In their dreams.

The shop windows are closing
And the street lamps
Open their eyes
Into the night.
The lovers buy the flowers
From the old women
And return back to their hives.
For tonight, they will sleep
In a cluster-cloud of lilies
Far and high above
The castle walls.

But when the wintertime
Exits stage
And the Springtime comes
In a slow parade.
I don’t know
Where they all come from
But their hearts transform
Underneath the sun.

It’s just so beautiful,
To be right here.
Like some strange musical,
Where everybody sings,
In their dreams,
Everybody sings,
In their dreams.